


Newfangled Contraption

by lyricwritesprose



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale may or may not be a troll, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: After the Apocalypse, Crowley wants Aziraphale to have a way to get in touch in an emergency.  Aziraphale is willing to update his technology—but he'll use it his own way.
Comments: 39
Kudos: 107
Collections: Lyric's Emergency Fluff Collection





	Newfangled Contraption

“And I do what, exactly, with this newfangled contraption?” Aziraphale asked, holding the mobile at arm’s length as if it might singe his hair.

“You use it,” Crowley explained patiently, “to contact me.”

“I have a perfectly good phone.”

“You aren’t at the shop  _ all _ the time.”

“No, I go out with you.”

“Or sometimes, you decide you want a nibble of something, and you lock up at eleven in the morning and go chasing whatever it is, and—” Crowley swallowed. “And I want you to be able to contact me if you’re in trouble. That’s all.”

He wished, briefly, that he was capable of doing the Thing With The Eyes that Aziraphale did to him when he wanted something.

Aziraphale seemed to understand, though. “Well, I’m certain that with enough practice, I’ll work it out,” he said doubtfully. “How do you dial?”

Crowley did his best to explain.

He was prepared to put up with Aziraphale’s slow pace on technological matters. What he didn’t expect was for Aziraphale to actually  _ understand _ at least one app. Sort of.

DEAR CROWLEY STOP PLEASE MEET ME BY THE BOOKSHOP STOP I THINK IT WOULD BE AN EXCELLENT DAY FOR A COUNTRY DRIVE STOP YRS A

Crowley studied this for a long, long moment. Finally, he wrote back,  _ It isn’t a telegraph, angel. _

DEAR CROWLEY STOP THE OPERATION OF THE APPLIANCE IS SIMILAR ENOUGH TO A TELEGRAPH THAT I FIND THAT TO BE THE BEST ANALOGY STOP YRS A

He was doing it on purpose. He had to be. He  _ had _ to have figured out that he didn’t have to text in all caps, because the texting app didn’t default to all caps—unless Aziraphale’s blithe assumption that it was a telegraph meant that it  _ did— _

He was never, Crowley realized, going to be  _ completely _ sure whether Aziraphale was pulling his leg.

He was smiling, though, as he texted back,  _ Never mind. I’d love to go for a drive with you, angel. _


End file.
